Scrummy
by MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: Sherlock takes his God-Daughter to the morgue on their way to the park. Ruby overhears a conversation that worries her, cue jealous Sherlock, an amused Mary and a confused pathologist.
1. The phone call

**This will be a five chapter fic, it's my first fan fic posted on another popular site two weeks ago, I've since written a few more stories (one is in progress) and I will bring them across too. I'll publish one chapter of this each day till complete.. Please let me know if you like it, any advice will be happily accepted!**

 **Chapter one**

 **The phone call**

The sun was shining, a rare sunny cloud free day in London Town. Molly was stuck doing paperwork for another 3 hours, after which the sun was sure to be gone.

Leaning back she stretched out her legs under her desk and closed her eyes, losing herself in her imagination. Molly pictured a tree lined path, she placed herself, Sherlock, and Ruby Watson on the path walking together. Ruby between them, hands entwined in one each of theirs. On every third step they would lift her up and swing her into the air, each time they did so they were rewarded with a delighted giggle and Sherlock and Molly's eyes would meet across the top of her head.

"Aunt Molly!" For a moment Molly was startled by the intensity of her imagination. She could hear Ruby so clearly, she briefly wondered if she could work a kiss into this scenario.. Just to see how far she could push her imagination of course - for _science_. She was _absolutely not_ still pining after Sherlock, they were friends now and he treated her like an equal, well, as equal as Sherlock was capable of treating anyone. Molly worried her bottom lip between her teeth, this was dangerous territory, she had worked so hard to be normal around Sherlock, thoughts like this could only lead to trouble. If she went back to blushing and stammering around him again it could spoil everything they now had. No, she firmly pushed the thought aside, no imaginary kiss, no matter how perfect could be worth that risk.

"Aunt Mooolllllyyyyy!" At this Molly was finally yanked out of her reverie, startled she looked up to see Ruby Watson barrelling down the corridor toward her.

Blonde curls swinging to and fro, blue eyes wide and shining, pink gingham pinafore swaying with each step, a heavenly little cherub. Sherlock swept along behind her, in stark relief, razor sharp cheekbones, eyes glinting, Belstaff billowing, the very image of a fallen angel.

"Hi Ruby, Sherlock, what are you two doing here?" Molly asked, standing quickly, nervously smoothing down her clothes and smiling down affectionately at the little girl.

She desperately hoped Sherlock couldn't deduce that she had just been imagining, well fantasising, about a trip to the park with him. She cleared her throat then looked up cautiously, at Sherlock, carefully keeping her face neutral and assuring herself that she didn't _actually_ imagine a kiss after all.

Sherlock smirked at her knowingly and she flushed, he knew. Of course he knew, he always knows.

"I'm on school holidays and Uncle Sherlock is taking me to the park but he had to stop here first to finish a case, so I can come and sit with you for a little bit!" Ruby exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, I am a lucky lady, indeed." Molly said sitting back down, grinning at Ruby and avoiding eye contact with Sherlock.

"I need to take a look at Mrs Jacobs" Sherlock clarified, inclining his head in the direction of the morgue.

Ruby swung into the seat opposite Molly and stated casually, "Mrs Jacobs is dead."

Molly nodded, and glancing up at Sherlock said "Go ahead Sherlock, Terry is in there, he'll wheel her, uh..." Molly's eyes darted in Ruby's direction, it's one thing for Ruby to know there are dead bodies in the morgue, it's quite another for her to imagine them in drawers like flatware. Clearing her throat she tried again, "Terry will help you with that Sherlock, and we'll just be in here, won't we Ruby?"

Swinging her legs and twirling a finger around a golden strand of her hair, Ruby leaned forward attempting a wink, telling Molly, "We can have time for a proper girl talk."

"Indeed," noted Sherlock, looking amused as he turned on his heel striding toward the lift for the morgue.

"So Ruby, girl talk, hmmm?"

Ruby leaned forward excitedly and resting her palms face down on the table said "Yes, Aunt Molly, girl talk, that means we talk about boys you think are _nice_ ," she breathed the last word out giggling.

"Are there any boys at school that you think are _nice_ , Ruby?" Molly asked in a conspiratorial tone.

Ruby started spinning on her chair and said in a sing-song voice "I know who you think is nice Aunt Molly".

"Oh, you do, do you?" Molly asked her, smiling in spite of herself.

"Yes," Ruby stated firmly nodding her head, "You think Uncle Sherlock is nice, you look at him a lot," Ruby looked coyly at Molly through her eyelashes.

"Mm-hmm, well I do look at him Ruby, because he's my _friend_ ,"Molly told her, smiling indulgently.

Ruby frowned slightly, "No, you don't look at him like a friend, Aunt Molly. You look at him when you think he's not looking, and, you look at him like mummy and daddy look at each other." Ruby finished. Pleased with her statement she started spinning her chair around, curls flying out, mouth an 'o' of delight.

Molly watched Ruby remembering when life was simple enough for a spin on a chair to bring such joy, when the world seemed to make sense. She missed being a child... No, that wasn't it, was it? She wanted to have a child, to experience all that innocence and joy, but through her child's eyes. Molly sighed and berated herself, there's no point in getting upset, you've advanced your career in a male dominated profession, not to mention you have wonderful friends, she ignored the voice in her head asking sadly, _What about love_?

Ruby stopped spinning and directed her gaze back at Molly, cocking to the side she said, "Aunt Molly, don't be sad, when you're not looking at him, he looks at you too." Ruby nods her head emphatically, "Mummy thinks it's funny, Daddy says he's an idiot," she giggles a little at that last.

"Uncle Sherlock looks at everything Ruby, he's a.."

"Yes, yes, he's a consulting detective, I know", Ruby interrupted, "But he doesn't need to investigate you. He knows you. My mummy says he loves you because..."

The phone sprang to life, ringing out shrilly. Relieved Molly interrupted Ruby asking, "could you get me a cup of water from the kitchen please Ruby?" Molly leaned forward narrowing her eyes in an assessing glance, "I'm very thirsty but I have to take this call," she gestured to the phone. "Can you manage that, or are you too little?"

Ruby stood up, drawing herself up to her full -almost- four feet glory, her chin high and proud. Peering down her little button nose at Molly she informed her in a glacial tone "I am _nearly five years old_ , Aunt Molly, I am NOT little."

Suppressing a smile, Molly told her "Well, that's settled then, the staff lounge is the fourth door down on the right". Molly paused with her hand on the phone and asked,"Do you know your left and right Ruby?"

Ruby's only response to this was a withering glare. She swept through the door in an imitation of Sherlock, pulling it off remarkably well in spite of the pink confection she was currently sporting.

Grinning and shaking her head slightly, Molly picked up the phone answering "Molly Hooper, speaking.." Pausing for a moment she continued "Yes, thank you for getting back to me."

Ruby was about half way down the corridor counting carefully when she spotted an open door, on the left, rather than the right, there was a man inside talking on the phone. _Boring_ , Ruby decided continuing past, she stopped abruptly when she heard the man say Molly.

Ruby knew it was rude to eavesdrop, and she also knew she was not allowed to do it, but she decided that this was not _eavesdropping_ , this was _detecting_ , like Uncle Sherlock. Kneeling down she pretended to fix her shoe lace.

"Molly? Yeah, she'll be there, although she's still hung up on that arrogant git in the silly hat," he paused, listening. "Yeah mate, exactly, he's never going to use it, might as well let someone else have a turn if you know what I mean.." Snickering he continued, "We've got the farewell drinks down the pub on Friday night for Dr. Gupta, so I'm thinking if I get a few drinks in her... She'll probably be happy for the attention. Might be a bit of fun, she's a scrummy little thing, quite a little dish hiding under those bloody wooly jumpers.. Wouldn't mind a taste of that if you know what I mean.." He trailed off laughing harshly.

Ruby gasped, eyes widening she turned to run back to Molly's office. Molly looked up as she was hanging up the phone to see Ruby almost sliding through her door in her haste to get back into the office. "There's a man in that room Aunt Molly, the room on the left, three doors down." Ruby told Molly shakily, panting and puffing.

"A man in the room on the left? Oh, that's just Daniel, he's a junior pathologist, nothing to worry about Ruby." Molly assured her. "Did you get a fright? Oh, you poor lamb, come here." She spun her chair around and patted her legs invitingly. Ruby made her way around the desk and climbed into Molly's lap, wrapping her arms around Molly's neck. Molly's arms slid around Ruby's waist and she gently swayed from side to side. Ruby sighed in contentment, and Molly followed suit, kissing the top of her head and singing 'London Bridge' softly to her.


	2. What Sherlock heard

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and favourited my story and me, you're all really lovely!**

 **Special thanks go to my three reviewers:**

 **Sammy Katz, I love your enthusiasm, I laughed when I read that, it was so unexpected!**

 **Guest reviewer Danielle, here is more!**

 **Morbid By Default, yes, he's a creepo, but I he's more the lives in his mum's basement, talks big kind of creep, besides, Ruby has definitely got her back!**

 **Chapter two**

 **What Sherlock heard**

Sherlock had just finished texting Lestrade, - the case had only been a four, barely worth stopping by the morgue at all, - _honestly, how on earth did the yard solve cases at all when he was unavailable?_ \- and was stepping out of the lift when he heard guffaws coming from an open door further down the corridor.

Looking in as he passed a fragment of conversation drifted out. "Yup, Friday night, she's gonna get it, and she doesn't even know it." A quick scan told him everything he needed to know about this particular idiot. Junior pathologist, lives with his mother, fancies himself a ladies man, - incorrectly - planning to attempt to have sex with some -no doubt- equally awful idiot. Boring. Dismissing him, he continued, returning his focus to Molly's office.

Molly sat with Ruby on her lap, singing quietly to her. They looked so peaceful together, Sherlock's heart squeezed, he allowed his gaze to linger a little longer on Ruby and his Pathologist before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Ruby and Molly looked up at him, two sets of adoring eyes, brown and blue, looking up at him. He could never figure out how he had managed to surround himself with such unconditional love after a lifetime of pushing it away and denying it at every turn.

Looking down at his girls, smiling gently he said "Okay Ruby, are you ready for the park?" Ruby nodded, gave Molly one last squeeze, then slid down and ran over to Sherlock. She coiled her arms around his waist hiding in the folds of his Belstaff. Sherlock was surprisingly affectionate with Ruby, and most were amazed by it, although Molly herself was not; Ruby had stolen his heart the very minute he first laid his eyes on her, possibly the moment he deduced her existence.

Looking up at Molly, Ruby's face crumpled as she asked, "Can't you come to the park Aunt Molly? I don't want to leave you here with that man."

Molly smiled at her and regretfully answered "No, sweetie, I have to work." "Besides," she added in a brighter voice, "If I'm not here to do my part Uncle Sherlock will have to work even harder to catch the bad guys.. Anyway, I can handle Daniel, he actually _has to do what I say,_ " Molly confided, winking at the little girl.

Ruby sighed and said, "Okay, Aunt Molly, but you call us if he's any trouble."

Sherlock had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, she was so much like John in that moment, making sure everyone felt comfortable, only five years old and already worrying about everyone else, she was so precious.

Woe betide anyone ever trying to hurt this little girl, between her ex C.I.A. agent mother, ex army doctor father, consulting detective God-father, former drug cartel owner grandmother, and pathologist 'aunt', not to mention Mycroft's 'minor position in the government', it would be mayhem for anyone thinking to extract a little revenge by way of hurting this child.

Molly's heart melted as she took in the sight of Sherlock so open and loving, she sighed, shook her head slightly and waved at them both. "Alright Hooper, back to the paperwork, it's not going to type itself it up," she admonished herself, "We can't all be Sherlock."

Sherlock took Ruby's hand and headed for the lift. Looking back over his shoulder as he walked, he winked at Molly cautioning her "Yes Molly, do be careful of Daniel, he at least likes to think of himself as trouble.." He trailed off chuckling to himself as he walked.

Ruby pressed the call button for the lift and they stood waiting. Ding! As the lift slowly struggled to its way up to the ground level of Barts, Ruby's finally burst out "Uncle Sherlock?"

"Mmmm?" Murmured Sherlock looking down at God-daughter, her tiny hand clasped tightly, in his.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and glittering, "Will Aunt Molly be okay?"

"Aunt Molly is fine, Ruby." He paused, eyes narrowing, the bridge of his nose crinkling as he took in Ruby's countenance, "Did something happen?"

"I heard that man, on the phone saying that Aunt Molly is _scrummy_ , and he's going to taste her!" Ruby looked up at Sherlock, lower lip trembling. "Daddy says that Mummy's roast chicken is _scrummy_ ," Ruby explained. "We _eat_ the chicken," Ruby finished with a sob, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock's brain helpfully surmised that the phone call he had overheard was likely part of the same one that Ruby had heard. So Molly was that idiot's target for Friday? What exactly was planned for Friday?! The idea of this miscreant thinking of Molly as a dessert of some sort, putting his hands on Molly, tasting Molly. He felt nauseated. A slideshow of graphic images scrolled through his mind. Forcing himself to regain control he sucked in a deep breath and thrust all the unwelcome thoughts aside to be dealt with when he was alone, Friday was three days away and Ruby needed him now.

Ruby's voice wavered as she asked "Is he going to hurt Aunt Molly, Uncle Sherlock?"

Sherlock swung her up into his arms consoling her, "No Ruby, no one is going to hurt Aunt Molly, I would never let anyone hurt Aunt Molly." Ignoring an internal voice, - a voice that sounded an awful lot like Meat-Dagger, ( _Meat-Dagger? Why the hell hadn't he been deleted?!) - scoffing "Oh no, of course not. You would never let_ _ **anyone**_ _hurt the one who matters the most, except of course the one who hurts her the most,_ _ **you**_ _! She wouldn't be in this position if you'd just let her go, she would have married me and been happy and..._ " Sherlock slammed an internal door on the voice and returned his attention to Ruby. "The man you heard was making a silly joke."

Tears were snaking down Ruby's cheeks, her breathing choppy and fast, "But it's not funny! Eating people isn't funny, it's scary".

Sherlock kissed Ruby's forehead, "Most adults are not as clever or funny as they think they are Ruby."

Ruby looked pensive for a moment then brightened, "Mummy is." She decreed, smiling at the thought.

Sherlock smoothed her hair back as he agreed with her "Of course she is. Shall we go home to mummy now?" Ruby nodded and snuggled against Sherlock relaxing.

Pulling out his phone he began firing off texts. The first was for Mycroft demanding a car be sent urgently - equipped with the appropriate booster seat for Ruby. Next he composed a text informing Mary they were on their way back, assuring her that Ruby was well, and in no physical danger but simply needed comfort. The final text ordered Lestrade to initiate a comprehensive background check on the new junior pathologist at Barts.

His phone began ringing immediately, glancing at the screen he saw Mary's name pulsing on the screen. "Mary, she's fine, she's not hurt, no one is hurt, she overheard a conversation that she found upsetting."

"Sherlock where are you, what kind of conversation has her upset and wanting to come home? Are you on a case?" Mary's voice had become increasingly low and dangerous.

"No Mary, we were simply at the morgue and Ruby heard the new junior pathologist comparing Molly to food."

Mary let out a breath. "Comparing Molly to food?" Confusion evident in her tone.

"The word 'scrummy' was bandied about, I believe, and there was mention of a possible," he paused to grit his teeth and finally bit out "Taste."

"Ah, I see, and how are we feeling about that Mr. Detective Man?" Mary asked, amused, she knew exactly how he felt about Molly even if he himself was in denial.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit just how much it bothered him. Ignoring the question he told Mary "Mycroft is sending a car, we won't be long." He ended the call and checked his phone: a message from Anthea directing him to the ambulance bay where a car would be waiting.

His phone chimed again: a text from Lestrade informing Sherlock that spying on a potential romantic interest of Molly's is not his division. Rolling his eyes Sherlock stuffed his phone back into his pocket, deciding that he would simply execute a - no doubt more thorough - background check himself.

Striding out of the hospital with Ruby still in his arms he turned toward the ambulance bay. Making a mental note to thank Anthea and Mycroft as he walked. Hmmm, maybe a dark chocolate gateaux would be just the thing...


	3. Mary chimes in

**Thank you so much to everyone favouriting and following, you've all made me feel very welcome! Special thanks to my reviewers, Sammy Katz, Morbid By Default, and Anathesia93.**

 **There will be an epilogue/out take (Drabble sized) dealing with Daniel inspired by - and written for - Sammy Katz and Morbid by default. They have both had such a visceral reaction to him that I felt they deserved closure, I have written half of it, it should be finished by the time I post the last chapter (5) and if do, I will post the following day.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Mary chimes in**

Mary was standing in the open door holding her arms out wide for Ruby as they walked up the path hand in hand. Ruby slipped away from Sherlock launching herself at her mother. Mary was laughing as she scooped Ruby up, turning somber as she asked her "What happened Rubes?"

Ruby slipped her arms around her mother in return, nuzzled into Mary's neck and let out a long sigh before answering. "Aunt Molly asked me to get her a drink of water while she talked on the phone. I said I would because I'm a _big_ _girl_ ," she said quietly, pride subdued but still evident, "but on my way I heard a man saying Aunt Molly is scrummy," her face folded in on itself, unshed tears once more pooling in her eyes and threatening to spill.

Mary rubbed Ruby's back in a soothing motion whispering "Silly man, Aunt Molly is certainly not edible," winking at Sherlock over Ruby's head.

"Well he _must've_ thought she was food Mummy, because he said he was going to taste her!" Ruby finished on a wail. Mary continued rubbing Ruby's back making shushing sounds. Sherlock had turned white and stood clenching and un-clenching his fists.

"Ruby, that is a pretend game that adults play when they _like_ each other in a special way, like Mummy and Daddy. Calling Aunt Molly is scrummy was his silly way of saying that he thinks Aunt Molly is lovely and wants to spend time with her." Mary waited for Ruby to process this new information.

Ruby's nose scrunched up adorably as she pondered this new information. "Like Aunt Molly and Uncle Sherlock?" She finally asked.

Mary held back a snort of laughter turning it into a garbled sort of cough. Sherlock was mortified, he shuffled from foot to foot refusing to meet Mary's eyes.

"Yes, Ruby, exactly like that." Mary agreed grinning.

"Uncle Sherlock? Do _you_ think Aunt Molly is scrummy?" Ruby asked innocently.

A faint blush bloomed on Sherlock's cheeks. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth as if to speak, then thinking better of it closed it again tilting his head. Trying anew Sherlock drew a deep breath opened his mouth and... Nothing, finally he sighed as he closed his eyes looking defeated. Mary watched this little performance shaking her head in fond exasperation.

Ruby asked Mary "May I go watch tv Mummy?"

Mary gave Ruby a considering look, "Are you feeling better now, pet?"

Ruby nodded, "Yes Mummy, that man thinks Aunt Molly is _pretty_ ," she frowned, adding, "I still don't think it's funny though."

"Off you go then." Ruby slid down and ran inside, with Sherlock and Mary watching her fondly, "Thirty minutes Ruby!" Mary called after her.

Mary gave Sherlock an appraising once-over looking amused. "So, dashing off to Barts now to rescue the damsel that has no idea she's in distress?"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, "I am glad that you find it amusing that this _Neanderthal_ , was talking about Molly as though she were a piece of meat Mary."

Mary sighed, "Sherlock, Molly is a woman, she wants to feel like a woman sometimes, you can't keep chasing away men who show an interest in her, however prurient. If you don't want to be with her _let someone else._ If you can't stand the thought of Molly being intimate with someone else, ask yourself why." Mary maintained eye contact with Sherlock, not willing to let him drop the subject.

Sherlock sputtered, " _Obviously_ I am concerned because she is a _friend_."

"Uh-huh, and as a _friend_ of Lestrade's why are you not out there peeling him off of whoever he's currently wrapped around since his divorce was finalised? Oh, no, hang on, you _did_ interfere in your friend Lestrade's love life on _one_ occasion I can recall."

Sherlock nodded his head, vindicated, "As I was saying Mary, it's no more than I would do for any of my friends".

Mary continued her train of thought, "Mmm Yes, I recall the occasion now", Sherlock's face fell, realising he'd been had, "When Lestrade asked _Molly_ out". Mary looked at Sherlock gravely, "It's time Sherlock, either lay claim to her fully, or _let her go._ She's _lonely_ , it's cruel Sherlock." Leaning forward smiling faintly Mary kissed him on the cheek and said "Ruby is on holiday all week, she'd love a trip to the park with Aunt Molly and Uncle Sherlock".

Sherlock gave Mary a non-committal "Mmm," then smiled albeit sadly, "Goodbye Mary," over his shoulder as he made his way back down the path he continued, "tell John I'll call him if anything above an eight presents itself." Sherlock sank down into the back of the car letting out a sigh, he looked back as the car pulled away to see Mary closing the door firmly against the outside world. Sherlock wondered, if an ex C.I.A. assassin can accept love and have a family then maybe there is a chance for him?

After directing the driver to Baker St, Sherlock pulled his phone out to text Molly enquiring if she had plans for Friday night, - surely she hadn't made a date with this moron.

Molly response was immediate. _Is everything okay Sherlock? I have Dr. Gupta's farewell drinks Friday night, but I can always beg off if you need me. xx Molly_

Sherlock breathed a sigh of pure relief and relaxed back against the seat. Smug in the knowledge that Molly is willing to cancel this Friday's farewell drinks at the mere possibility of time with him.

Bounding up the stairs at Baker St he determined that a visit to Mind-Palace-Molly was in order to prove to himself that Mary - and Mind-Palace-Meat-Dagger - were wrong about him hurting Molly. Right, patches, tea.. **"Mrs Hudson, TEA!"**

"Not your housekeeper dear. Just this once, mind." She called up in answer to his demand.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and donned a robe, he sat down in his chair and waited impatiently for his tea. He sent out a text to 'all' - Mycroft, John, Mary, Molly, and Lestrade - that he was currently dealing with a private case and was not to be disturbed for the duration.

Mrs Hudson bustled in with the tea and started chatting, "Ooh, you've got a tough one haven't you Sherlock. I can see it in your face, anything you find difficult the rest of us haven't a chance have we? Well, I don't mind just for tonight making tea for you while you're keeping the streets safe, even genius needs tea." She told him indulgently.

"Yes, yes, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock replied impatiently shooing her away, "You've done your duty for London, now OUT! I am absolutely not to be disturbed. Unless you are _literally_ on fire, I don't want to know, no clients, no phone calls, and no _Mycroft_!"

"Well, you know best Sherlock, but why must you treat him like he's a nuisance? He's your brother Sherlock.." She pleaded with him. "Honestly your poor mother must be beside herself with worry with the way you two carry on.."

 **"Mrs Hudson!** " Sherlock bellowed.

"I know dear, you need to go to your mind thingy. It's a good thing it's in your imagination, or you wouldn't be able to move for the mess," clucking to herself Mrs Hudson continued, "It wasn't as bad when John was here, he used to pick up a bit, but he's with Mary now I guess, and the baby is.."

 **"MRS HUDSON, FOR THE LAST TIME"** Sherlock was practically roaring at this point.

"Ooh-ooh!" Mrs Hudson squealed, finally heading down the stairs, mumbling to herself.

Sighing Sherlock waited to hear the door close then peeled open three patches placing two on his right arm and one on his left. Giving the nicotine time to build in his blood stream he poured a cup of tea, added sugar, and sat comfortably sipping the tea slowly.

So, time to assess the merits of the accusation Mary and _Meat-Dagger_ \- Sherlock's lip curled in disgust at the thought of him, - had hurled at him today while he was trying to look after a _friend_. With the calming effects of the tea struggling to battle the invigorating effects of the nicotine - certainly no match for opiates, cocaine, and cigarettes, but needs must when the devil drives - Sherlock lay back, steepled his fingers, closed his eyes and descended into his Mind Palace.


	4. Mind Palace Molly

**Thank you to everyone who has followed and favourited this story! Extra special thanks go Sammy Katz and Morbid by default, you guys are such champs I'd thought I'd find time to format this chapter and out it up early! Hope you like it! This is the penultimate chapter..**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Mind Palace Molly**

He opened the brightly patterned door of Molly's room, the room contained his relationship with her but no longer Molly herself, he had locked her away. It would be impossible to lock away the entire relationship however, he needed access to the memories. He had known her for so long, had gone through so much with her, if he lost access to all his memories of her he would certainly appear to have lost his mind.

Wandering through the room he allowed the memories associated with each item to wash over him. Molly had been always kind, supportive and loving and he had never done so much as one thing for her, she gave and gave and he just took and took. Even when she had furiously slapped him, it was done out of love, he had retaliated to said love by glorying in the fact that her engagement had ended and spitefully attempting to humiliate her; he had failed. Molly had been the Greek Goddess Athena, Goddess of War and Wisdom, head held high, eyes flashing, voice strong, she was beautiful.

She had only ever wished for his love and he had loftily considered himself above it. He had derided love as a fools game and scorned her for loving him, until such time as her love had become useful to him.

While helping him in the lab she had deduced him, saw right through him. She showed him how insignificant she believed herself to be, but not to inspire guilt, no, never that, simply to make it easier for him to trust, to assure him that she wasn't asking for anything in return. She then lay herself out for him to use in whatever fashion he chose.

He had asked her to risk her career and her life for him, which she did, without hesitation. She had agreed to kill him so that he could live. After that he couldn't close his eyes to her.

His heart had burst wide open with love. He didn't want it. It wasn't the same as his love for John, it consumed him, a fire in his veins, it bordered on physically painful. He wanted to dive inside her, hide from the world, live in her love. He couldn't allow himself any of it. Love is weakness.

He locked his heart away while he was taking down Moriarty's web, every chamber of it, John, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, his parents, Mycroft, and Molly. He was doing it for them but wouldn't allow himself to feel for them until he returned. London's beating heart was his own.

When he returned she was engaged. She didn't love him anymore. He desperately wished he could say the same for himself, that's when he locked Mind-Palace-Molly away, it was self defence.

She was no longer in love with him but she deserved to know what she meant to him, his former cruelty must be ameliorated. He settled on taking her on a day of crime solving to say thank you and to prove himself that he could function around her without throwing himself at her and declaring his love like some sort of second-rate Jane Austen hero.

He messed it up of course. He was so terrified that he couldn't separate his friendship from his love that he behaved like a mad man. His mind was off-kilter -like a pin ball machine on tilt - and kept offering up advise from Mind-Palace-John. During the skeleton/Jack the Ripper hoax he had been completely undone, Mind-Palace-John had bombarded him with a seemingly endless stream of consciousness. Broken, he had retreated into his mind and answered John instead of Molly like he had in the lab in years past. He knew he'd hurt her and spent the next hours attempting to make it right with her.

Finally at Train-Guy's place he realised that Molly was looking at him doe eyed again, he grimaced, irritated - if she couldn't control herself whilst wearing an engagement ring on how the hell could he be expected to? - Molly had been embarrassed and he berated himself, why did he have to always make her feel wrong footed and uncertain?

He asked her to go and have fish and chips hoping to assuage the damage he had done by showing impatience with her. Confused, she had asked for an explanation about the day. He had utterly failed to make her see that she was important. His only remaining option was to let her see that he finally knew love, - was consumed by love for her. - He had let Molly see the depth of his love laid bare. Her engagement had made him feel safe to show her, she knew that she mattered but he didn't have to act upon it, - he could even feel sorry for himself that he was unable to have her, - his hands were obviously tied, all responsibility absconded.

Of course Molly felt no such lack of responsibility, by allowing her to see his love he had reignited hers and effectively ended her engagement. The death rattle was a drawn out affair but it died right there in that hallway. Molly would not, _could not_ marry one man when she loved another, and he had felt . Love, after all is a vicious motivator. Molly ended up alone. Alone, but still _his_.

He had tried not to hurt her anymore after that, he was careful. He did well, with the exception of the drug use, and the fake engagement, not forgetting of course his caustic comment on said engagement ending.. Followed by being shot and Janine's tell all (lies) in newspaper & tv interviews...

The coup de grace was becoming a murderer and earning himself exile and certain death. That was the worst thing he'd ever done to her, - oh, not killing Magnussen, he would do that again, Magnussen was pure evil in a man-suit, an empty void, a black hole sucking everyone in his orbit down into his depths.- No, his most unforgivable betrayal of Molly had been getting on that plane without saying good bye to her. He had been a coward, afraid that he'd lose control and take her in his arms finally taking what he wanted, - had wanted since that day in the lab.

They are right, he is cruel and he brings her nothing but sorrow, he'd thought her weak for showing love, for putting another above yourself, oh how wrong he'd been, _she_ was strong and him weak. Maybe the best option, the _only_ option would be to leave her alone, let her find someone ordinary and boring, like Meat-Dagger. The idea ripped through him like a tornado, leaving him gasping for air, pain radiating through his chest. He needed Molly.

Making his way up the spiral staircase to where Molly lived, he paused, oh, had he really locked her in a tower? Was he really that much of a cliche? It seemed he was. Seeing the cherry covered door his chest decompressed and breathing was once again possible, the pain in his chest was already receding, just being near her helped.

Bursting through the door he found her on her settee petting Toby. Sherlock could hear Toby purring and Molly affirming what a good boy he was. Sensing his presence she looked up, "Sherlock" she breathed, her face lit with joy. His heart clenched in fear, he could never _ever_ live up to her feelings for him.

Molly deduced him, sighed and asked him gently, "So you want to let me move on?"

Sherlock nodded, "I have to Molly, I can't give you what you need. I just want you to be happy, I have to stop being selfish and let you go, I tried with Meat Dagger but I.." He ran his fingers through his hair, anguished, "...I couldn't do it, I got it wrong, I ruined it for you. I'm sorry Molly."

"Sherlock," Molly smiled at him lovingly, holding her hands out she continued, "you didn't get it wrong."

He crossed the room and took her hands, "I - I didn't?"

"No Sherlock, you didn't," squeezing his hands she continued, "I would rather be friends with _you_ , be _your_ bolt hole and _your_ lab partner, than be married to any other man, if this is all you can give me, _I'll take it._ Mary is wrong, I don't want to be with anyone if I can't be with you. I can't. Believe me Sherlock, I did try, I've cried rivers of tears for you. I cannot see past you, all I see is you. Your faults, your strengths, all of it. My heart belongs to you."

"But I'm... This is not my area." Sherlock blurted out.

"According to you jokes and conversation are not my area, but I _try_ , not being the best at something does not give you an excuse to not attempt it at all Sherlock."

"But I - I'll hurt you, I'll make mistakes, I'm so _selfish_."

"I know Sherlock, I see you, have I ever turned away?"

"No," he breathed, hopeful now. "How do I?" He trailed off, "I don't know how to.."

"Just go to her, no drama, no theatre, just you."

"That's it? No flowers, dinners, jewellery. Just me?" Sherlock was confused, that's not how this worked, you had to put a performance on, like with Janine, that's what woman wanted and that's why he kept away from it.

"Oh Sherlock," Molly shook her head slowly, "foolish man, _you_ are all she has ever wanted, since the day you first conned your way into the morgue, she saw you then and she sees you now. _Just you._ "

Turning Molly's hands over and dropping a kiss onto the palm of each of them Sherlock offered her a frail smile "Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck Sherlock, you have _love_."

Sherlock nodded, walking out he gave one last backward glance before making his way back down the spiral staircase collapsing it behind him as he went, Molly would no longer need to dwell in a tower. Emerging from his Mind Place he sat up and checked the time, just after 5. Right, shower.

He emerged 20 minutes later in a cloud of aromatic steam. He dressed himself in a crisp white shirt, black pants and his Belstaff, ruffling his hair he gave himself one last once over in the mirror, heart pounding steadily in his chest. He was aware of the effect that his physical presence had on Molly, did he really have anything else to offer her? Winding his scarf around his neck, he squared his shoulders and made for the door.

Pounding down the stairs he called out "I'm going out Mrs Hudson!"

"Yes Sherlock, name and email or number, I know dear."

Sherlock stepped out into the street and hailed a cab, giving the driver Molly's address he sat back feeling as though he was on his way to his execution.


	5. Happily ever after

**Thank you so much to everyone favouriting and following! You're all making me feel so welcome! It's lovely! This has been really wonderful!**

 **Extra special thanks go to Sammy Katz, and Morbid by default and Sherlockian_87, you guys are spoiling me!**

 **Tomorrow I will post Revenge Is a Dish Best Served cold.. Also that one hasn't been posted anywhere yet. I will post it here and the other place, but because I wrote it for Sammy and Morbid by default, they get first crack! After that there is a follow up set 18 months later..**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Happily ever after**

Sherlock stood by Molly's intercom, staring it down, he placed his finger on Molly's buzzer, then paused, panic rising he pulled his finger abruptly back. What am I doing? I don't do love, I don't do _relationships_. He turned away to leave, helpfully his mind supplied him with a visual.. _That moron Daniel locked in an embrace with Molly, trailing kisses down her neck_ while _she clung to him, throwing back her head and arching her back in ecstasy._ The image left him dizzy, but the fear spurred him on, he faced the buzzer again feeling idiotic, he was _oscillating_ on the pavement like a love-struck fool. Sucking in a breath he mashed his finger on the button and waited for a response.

"Hello?" Molly's voice was a soft question.

"Molly, it's me."

"Sherlock? Why are you buzzing the door? Why didn't you just use your key?" Molly's mind was racing, something was wrong, using the intercom? The text earlier commanding them all not to disturb him.. Exiled again? No, he wouldn't be here. A girlfriend? No, he wouldn't be _here_ if someone had managed to capture the heart of the elusive Sherlock Holmes. Was he hurt? Was Ruby hurt? Mary, John? Her thoughts spinning madly she asked, "Sherlock, has something happened?"

"Molly, please buzz me in." His fear made him curt.

"Oh! Sorry Sherlock. Pull the door now." Molly banged her head against the door jamb. Why? Why after all these years, to still turn into a little mouse? It was absurd. She yanked the door open and waited for him lamenting her ratty pyjamas. Sherlock rounded the corner coming into view, his clothes and hair were immaculate but his eyes told a different story, they were positively feral, something was definitely wrong.

Sherlock took in the sight of Molly standing in the open door in her scruffy pyjamas, looking as innocent as a child. She was wearing a pair of pink pyjamas which featured a smattering of cats who wore their own pink pyjamas in turn, ridiculous. He'd never understood her lack of armour, his suits were his battle dress, his uniform. She was so without artifice, she didn't seem to require shields, she was simply open and loving. It had taken him years to see that her lack of emotional cunning was not a weakness on her part but rather a willingness to be open. She possessed a bravery he couldn't even hope to comprehend, let alone emulate. Right now she seemed damned near dangerous.

Molly stood waiting for him to move, he seemed to be on pause, 'buffering' as John called it. Outwardly he appeared to be staring at her in admiration, his expression bordering on worshipful. Molly was well and truly confused, obviously she wasn't reading him correctly. She stood biting her lower lip, brow furrowed, unsure whether to speak or stand in silence. Was it like sleep walking? Was it dangerous to call him out of his internal landscape?

Sherlock realised he'd simply stopped moving, utterly caught up in his rapture at the sight of her. Taking a breath he advanced towards Molly and tried to gather his scattering thoughts. "Tea? Shall we have tea Molly?" He forced out, attempting a smile but managing something considerably more like a rictus grin.

"Tea, Sherlock?" Molly asked, frowning slightly in confusion. "Oh, erm, ok, tea then." Molly walked slowly away from the door, dread unfurling in her stomach. What the hell was going on? She heard Sherlock closing the door behind him as she picked up the kettle, her movements mechanical as she filled it with water. She leaned forward resting her palms on the bench top trying to regulate her breathing and thundering heart beat, steeling herself for whatever was about to come.

"Molly," his voice was desperate, "I.. I want," clearing his throat he willed himself to continue.

Molly turned to look at him, he was scared, Sherlock scared? Her stomach plummeted, it must be something truly awful, tears began pooling in her eyes, raising her hand to her mouth she asked "Sherlock? What's happened?"

"I can't, I don't know how to.." He stopped again, "Molly, I don't know how to do this." His eyes pleaded with her.

Molly let out a sob, "Sherlock please, I need to know now. Please, tell me what's happened."

Sherlock moved into her, placing his hands on her hips he pulled her against him and said "Molly, I don't want to lose you, but I'm not like John, I don't have the words for this." He locked his eyes with hers, desperate for her understanding.

Molly curled her hands into his coat lapels, "Sherlock you're not making sense, why would you lose me? _What has happened? You're scaring me."_

"Molly, do you still love me?" His voice was intentionally low and vibrated against Molly's chest. He noted her dilated eyes and shallow breath, the shiver at the sound of her name on his lips, still physically attracted, but physical attraction does not equal love.

"Of course Sherlock, I'll always love you, whatever you've done, you won't lose me, you're my _friend_ , that's important to me." Her mind was under siege, scenario after scenario assaulted her. Had he hurt someone? Killed someone? Was he using drugs again?

"I'm your friend, Molly?" His voice was subdued.

"I - I don't know what you want Sherlock," Molly was very nearly wailing, her heart was pounding in her ears, she was trembling, utterly overwhelmed. "I'll say whatever you want me to say. " _Just tell me and I'll say it."_ Sherlock's eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again, Molly stared at him in amazement. Is Sherlock Holmes about to kiss me?

Sherlock could no longer wait, "I'm going to kiss you Molly," he warned. Molly's eyes widened, she flushed and swallowed hard, eyes widening and dilating further. He trailed his hands up the outside of her upper arms causing her to shiver and cradled her head in his hands. He closed his eyes and drifted toward Molly, their lips connecting so softly it almost felt like a whisper. "Molly?" Sherlock rumbled.

"Y-yes, Sherlock?" Molly asked, dazed.

"May I kiss you again?"

Her answer was simple, she pulled him down by his coat lapels until his lips met hers, he sighed and pulled her tighter against him. Molly moaned and an electrical charge surged through him, kissing her was exquisite. When her tongue sought entry he could feel each and every nerve ending in his lips sending signal flares, his mouth opened and when he finally felt her tongue slide against his the pleasure centres in his brain lit up like a fire works display on Guy Fawkes Night. It was Sherlock's turn to moan as tried to pull Molly closer, he _couldn't get close enough,_ he had opened the dam and his need for her swept him away.

He broke the kiss but kept their bodies mashed together, "Molly, Molly, my Molly," Sherlock crooned, "I don't want you to go on Friday, I don't want to lose you." His voice was desperate.

Molly was completely addled by the kiss, breath heaving, heart a staccato beat, she struggled to understand, his physical proximity further dulling her wits. Closing her eyes, she shook her head a little attempting to regain her mental faculties, "Sherlock, is something bad going to happen on Friday?"

" _Daniel_ ," he couldn't help the spite in his tone at the cretin's name, "Is planning on making a conquest of you. I can't let him, I've been a fool for too long." He smiled at her gently, hopefully, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Sherlock, whatever plans he had made had certainly not been approved by me, I find him abhorrent at best, I wouldn't let him near me, I am a professional so I'm polite, that's where it ends." Molly watched him waiting, hoping he wouldn't retreat now he knew there was no danger, push her away and walk out, letting things slowly go back to the way they were.

Sherlock watched Molly getting lost in her thoughts, wondering if he would not soon be gone in a whirl of Belstaff and cowardice. He let her go and stood back half a step never losing eye contact and very deliberately removed his coat. Turning slightly to hang it over the back of a chair he asked, "Molly Hooper, may I please stay?"

Molly's heart soared, she felt like she was flying, her face was a study in joy as she nodded saying "Always, Sherlock."

~Fin~

 ** _There is a one shot -kinda cracky- in which Anthea sorts out Daniel the creep:_**

 ** _Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold_**

 ** _Then I have another follow on fic set 18 months post Scrummy, pure fluffy goodness:_**

 ** _Off the Menu_**

 ** _Come and visit me on Tumblr!_**

 ** _sweet-sweet-escape_**


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